


Don't Be: the Epilogue

by supernaturallylost



Series: Don't Be [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Closure, Conflict Resolution, Depression, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Suicidal Thoughts, dean goes to confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4193124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas had thought Dean would be better immediately after their struggles ended, but Dean knew it would take time. As he watches Cas's anxiety grow worse and worse with each day he isn't cured of his thoughts, Dean comes to the conclusion that he has to see Crowley one last time.</p><p>[This is a continuation of the work 'Don't Be' and, therefore, it will not make as much sense without first having read that fiction.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cured

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551987) by [supernaturallylost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/supernaturallylost/pseuds/supernaturallylost). 



Dean shook for a solid minute before he managed to sit down. Cas was out getting groceries, Sam was at the library researching something or another, and Dean was all alone in their latest dingy hotel room. At the foot of the bed, he sat. His eyes were scrunched tightly in concentration, and his muscles continued to flex and relax while he attempted to calm himself.

“This kind of thing doesn’t just go away,” he’d whispered to Cas last week. Cas had stroked his arm lightly as Dean wound himself around him, tucked his head into Cas’s neck, and breathed in the scent of him. “It’s not something you just get over.”

“If it gets serious again,” Cas had asked softly, “will you tell me?”

Now, Dean held the phone in his hand. He could call. He could pray. He could reach out.

Instead, he alternated between pretending to watch Doctor Sexy, holding clasped hands to his chest with his chin tucked down to make himself as small as possible, and dialing the first two digits of Cas’s phone number.

Of course, as he panicked alone in the hotel room, he couldn’t help but think of Crowley. Whatever twisted feelings he had for Crowley would never be untangled, he knew for sure, but Crowley had saved his life once. Perhaps, he considered shakily, he needed something sardonic instead of compassionate. Perhaps he needed something blunt instead of gentle.

“Dean,” Sam had asked two days ago, “what are we going to do about Crowley?”

“Nothing,” Dean had responded definitively. “We’ll leave him alone unless we absolutely need to contact him.”

From the foot of the bed, Dean scooted forward and slid down to the floor. With the bed as a backrest, he stretched out his legs with a long exhale. A car door shut nearby, and Dean knew Sam would be unlocking the motel door soon. He breathed deeply again.

 

Castiel closed the door behind him. Subconsciously, he locked the latch.

“Dean?” he said softly in case Dean was asleep. He received no answer, and so he called once more, “Dean, are you here?”

Then, Cas recognized the sound of running water. He walked to the bathroom and knocked on the door before he realized it was slightly open. With a small push, Cas opened it the rest of the way to see Dean sitting on the edge of the bathtub, wrapped in a towel but still dripping from his shower. The faucet was running steadily, and Dean stared at it dully.

“Dean,” Cas breathed.

His toothbrush was on the ground. Toothpaste was on the sides of the sink, the corners of his mouth, and the yellowed floor tiles. Hesitantly, Cas turned off the water.

“Sorry,” Dean spoke. He sounded small and far away. “It fell from my hand.”

Cas shook his head. With an attempt at a smile and deeply furrowed brows, Cas opened his mouth to say a joke. When none came to him, he sighed lightly and let his shoulders fall. He reached down to pick up the toothbrush.

“Sorry, Cas,” Dean said, louder this time. He managed to tear his gaze from the sink and up to where Cas was standing. His eyes were tearful, but they were still unfocused. “I can’t do it.”

Cas rubbed his eyes with his free hand.

“Is it me?” he asked quietly. “Is it us?”

Dean shook his head uneasily.

“Is it him?”

Dean didn’t answer, but he looked down at the small blob of toothpaste on the tile.

“You want to see him?” Cas asked. In spite of his effort, he sounded hurt.

“No,” Dean answered. After a second, he looked up with suddenly coherent eyes. “I want to talk to him.”

 

“Forgive me, Father,” Dean whispered while kneeling, “for I have sinned. It has been a few months since my last confession.”

“I know, Dean,” the priest answered softly. “I remember. Are you still struggling with thoughts of harming yourself or others? Are you concerned about possession?”

“I thought I was supposed to do the talking thing?” Dean retorted snappily.

“Of course,” came the condescending answer. Then, in an overly dramatic and sarcastic voice, “What ails you, my child?”

“Cas wanted me to come,” Dean sighed. “Again.”

“Oh?” the priest said simply. “He must care for you very much, for all he’s doing for you.”

“Yeah,” Dean managed. He bit his tongue.

“He’s come in a few times these past months as well.”

Dean looked up quickly. “What? He has? Cas came here?”

The priest nodded. “He likes to come to confession. It makes him feel safer, and it takes away some of his heaviness. He bears the weight of the world, that one.”

Dean looked down again.

“He thinks I want to cheat on him again.”

“But you don’t?”

Dean swallowed hard. A deep breath of incense relaxed him enough to continue.

“I don’t. I don’t ever want to hurt Cas again. I just want to talk to Crowley, to talk to someone blunt and cruel and honest. He saved my life, and I need him to tell me to be grateful. I want to stop regretting that night.”

“From what I know of demons,” the priest spoke softly, “their speech is equal parts truth and fiction. Would you trust what he could tell you?”

“I don’t need to,” Dean shrugged. “I just want to hear him speak. Cas thought I was cured for the first week afterward. He thought I was safe and recovered, completely past the thoughts of killing myself. I tried to explain that they don’t just go away, but he can’t understand.”

He took a deep, unsteady breath.

“Crowley can,” he finished. “Crowley could understand, and he might be able to help.”

“Dealing with demons is never wise, Dean.”

“I know, but who can I turn to who knows me like him? Cas knows my past. He knows my dark side, but he ignores it. Crowley doesn’t act like it’s just not there.”

“Because he wants it to consume you,” the priest nodded pointedly.

“Maybe,” Dean agreed. “I’d still rather be accepted for that part of me than denied the chance to come to terms with it.”

“You feel Castiel is repressing a part of you.”

“He is.” Dean looked down at his fidgeting thumbs. “Cas is afraid that if we talk about it, it’ll take over. I’ll lose control and try to kill myself again.”

The priest hummed thoughtfully and leaned back to where Dean couldn’t see him at all.

“I see,” he said simply.

“What do I do, Father?” Dean asked quietly. “Do I ask Cas to let me talk to Crowley?”

“In the eyes of God our Father,” he answered, his voice thicker and deeper than before, “the answer is clear.”

Dean looked up to see glowing red eyes smiling at him.

“Always better to ask forgiveness than permission.”


	2. Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean finally speaks with Crowley, the man who saved his life. Finally, we all get some closure.

“Dean Winchester,” Crowley grinned. He sat in the passenger seat of the impala with his head shaking back and forth. “Dean bloody Winchester. You had my number and you didn’t call? Is that any way to treat your paramour?”

Dean smiled in spite of himself, rolled his eyes, and shifted the car into drive.

“How long were you there, Crowley?”

“Just for the last bit. I thought I heard my name, so I stopped by.” Crowley looked lazily out of the window. “Where are you taking me, Dean? Somewhere private, I hope?”

“No,” he answered firmly. “Somewhere very public.”

“Kinky,” Crowley winked happily.

Dean only rolled his eyes, heard Crowley chuckle, and managed to stifle his own smile.

“I’ve missed you,” Crowley grinned.

Eventually, Dean parked the car outside of a bar. Crowley waited in his seat when Dean got out, patiently tapping his foot until Dean came over to his door to help him out.

“What a gentleman,” Crowley smiled. “Now this is a proper date, isn’t it?”

“No,” Dean argued, closing the car door as soon as Crowley got out. “We’re just getting a drink.”

“Sure,” Crowley nodded. “Whatever you say, Dean.”

The pair of them sat in a dark booth away from the rest of the patrons, though few were there so early in the afternoon. They waited until they each had a beer in hand before speaking again.

“So,” Crowley prompted.

“Cas thinks I’m better now,” Dean said without lead-up. “He thinks I was cured the minute I came out of the river.”

“Hmph,” Crowley nodded. “That’s a fault of angels: they are very black and white thinkers; no perception of gray areas.”

“I’m not in a gray area,” Dean argued, eyes downcast. “I’m in the black again.”

Crowley leaned back.

“I don’t see knives,” he said pointedly. “No pills at hand?”

Dean shook his head.

“You look in fine health,” Crowley shrugged. He looked away from Dean, smiling. “Maybe your angel is right; you look as good as ever.”

Dean bit his tongue and clenched his jaw.

“You know that’s not true,” Dean answered lowly. “The story doesn’t end when a suicide attempt fails.”

“No,” Crowley nodded, “apparently it ends with the jumpers sitting down in a bar for a beer.”

Dean looked up angrily.

“Well,” Crowley shook his head, “that’s not an attractive look on you. What did you want to talk to me for, then, if not for my witty ridicule?”

Dean opened his mouth, closed it again, and looked down.

“I still want to die,” Dean whispered.

“So do it,” Crowley shrugged. “You’ll still have me around to deal with, dead or alive.”

“You’re not supposed to say that,” Dean answered.

“King of Hell,” Crowley waved at his own face. “You think you know what I’m going to say?”

“I don’t understand,” Dean said.

“I do.” Crowley stood up. “You asked to talk to me, and you’re dancing around the subject. I agreed to talk to you, but if you’re going to keep beating around the bush, I might as well leave. I don’t like wasting my time.”

Dean pursed his lips and looked down.

“Now,” Crowley sighed, scooting his beer out of the way and leaning over the table, “what do you want?”

Guilty green eyes looked up through thin black lashes.

“Closure,” Dean whispered.

Crowley reached across the table and traced circles over Dean’s hand with his forefinger.

“Another night of passion?” Crowley smirked.

Dean laughed. The sound was like a pressure valve being loosed.

“Keep it in your pants for a day, Crowley,” Dean teased. Then, seriously, he said, “I want to tell you the truth. I wasn’t just using you, and I did…”

Dean’s mouth felt funny around the word, and he couldn’t quite say it. He rephrased quickly.

“I did care for you. I saw you fall into the river, and I realized how much I cared and… and I chose Cas. If it happened over again, I’d choose him again. It’s always Castiel. I need you to know that it’s always going to be him. I’m sorry, for all we did, and for caring about you after everything and still not being able to…”

“Don’t be,” Crowley interrupted.

The two sat in silence for a moment before Crowley chugged the remainder of his beer and stood.

“You feel guilty for loving two people,” Crowley whispered, looking down at Dean, “and you feel guilty for tricking them into loving you.”

Dean looked up at Crowley with his brow furrowed.

“Yes,” he nodded.

Crowley laughed under his breath. “Do you want me to forgive you? Is that what you’re after?”

Dean didn’t answer.

Crowley reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a red and maroon variegated carnation. Slowly, he placed it on the table. He left his fingertips on the stem of the flower and stared at Dean until their eyes met. Slowly, he leaned down until their faces were a breath apart.

“Do you understand?” Crowley asked.

Dean nodded, reaching out to grab the carnation. By the time he opened his eyes from blinking, Crowley had disappeared. Dean took a deep breath.

“In some places,” a voice said calmly, “carnations are the flowers of death.”

Castiel slowly sat down in the seat in front of Dean. Dean didn’t seem at all surprised by his appearance.

“Variegated carnations,” Cas continued, nodding at the flower, “symbolize regret for a love that cannot be shared.”

Dean nodded slowly, smiling his first real smile in weeks.

“How do you feel now, Dean?”

Dean set the carnation down on the table, looked up at Castiel with bright eyes, and nodded.

“I think I can heal now.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this series and everything. <3 Love you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave comments if you have any!


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